Starving Eagle
by The Warrior Poet
Summary: A Shenmue Prequel. It chronicles the story of Iwao's journey to China and the events that later lead to the retrieval of the mirrors and his death at the hands of the ruthless Lan Di. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
October 3, 1967  
Kowloon

As Iwao Hazuki entered the gates of the Walled City, he no longer feared wearing his family sword.

It was a lawless place, an island of traditional China in the receding sea of british imperialism. Its streets were narrow and cracked, still pools of tepid water gathered in potholes, and everything was permeated with the smell of mildew and refuse. The people were as stunted and bent as trees with inadequate sunlight, or weeds pushing out of the cracks in the concrete.

In complete contrast there was Iwao; tall, straight, with a countenance both stony and determined. He was in the prime of his manhood, his body lean and lithe from years of discipline. He wore traditional clothing, the wide-leg hakama of the swordsman's art, the gi that bore the markings of the Hazuki Dojo. And there was the sword, almost five hundred years old and still as sharp as the day it was forged. Keeping it in sight seemed imperative in a place like this.

He had left Japan with nothing to guide him but a name, released from the lips of his dying Grandfather. As soon as he had heard the name there was no doubt in his mind: it was his destiny. His Grandfather had seen it in Iwao's face before he had even responded. "I knew that you would make me proud," Izanagi Hazuki had said. "Our fathers will go with you." The crooked old hand had risen up and pointed to the Hazuki sword, displayed with honor beside the old shrine (Izanagi had insisted on being moved to the shrine room as soon as he had taken ill.)

"No," Iwao had said. "This blade is my father's blade."

"Your father would not take it if I offered it," Izanagi had said. "He has chosen a different path. This path is yours to take, this burden is yours to bear."

When Iwao had taken the blade it felt as heavy as an anchor. The rayskin of the hilt was cold to the touch. When he turned back to face his Grandfather he was gone. Iwao did not weep, for Izanagi's face appeared as if it had been released from all care. The last light of the dying sun lit his lifeless eyes, and to Iwao they appeared to glow with a soft light. "Rest easy, father of my father. I will find Him," Iwao had said, as he closed Izanagi's eyes.

Seas and storms and hostile borders had led him here, but his heart told him he was in the right place. But where to go? The name he bore was a dangerous one. Why else would Izanagi not mention it during all the years that Iwao had been instructed by him? It held power and age, it whispered of the past and promised things about the future. He had to guard it like a precious jewel, revealing it only to those that could be trusted. And yet, who could he trust? He was a stranger here, an outsider. His only companion was his ancient sword, his only friend himself.

His wanderings were quite aimless, but they eventually led him to a central square that opened to the pale autumn sunlight. There were many street side vendors plying all sorts of things, and a great mongolian grill sending stomach-rumbling scents into the air. He purchased some meat hot off the grill and sat at a table to eat it, hoping it was beef. It wasn't until he was halfway finished with his food that he realized that almost every eye in the square was on him. Some of the eyes were unkind and designing but most were simply curious. Iwao tried his best to ignore them. As he finished, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He had not slept in over 24 hours. He would need to rest soon, he realized.

He heard the chair across from him scrape across the ground and felt the table shift as someone sat down. He opened his eyes. She was as beautiful as the morning. Her face was delicate and kind, her eyes as brown as a brook beneath a forest glade. His heart seemed to stop in his chest.

"Please, sit with me a moment. Pretend that you know me," she said. She looked frightened, he saw.

"What's the matter?" he asked. He couldn't pull his eyes from her. Her lips were summer red, the curve of her cheek an elegant line finer than any calligraphy. How old could she be? No more than eighteen surely, but she had a wisdom in her eyes that spoke of maturity and age.

"Look over my shoulder, those two men near the fountain. They have been following me. They mean me harm, I know." She tucked a strand of her night dark hair behind her ear. Iwao spotted them immediately. One of them was wearing a tan leisure suit. His eyes were shaded by designer sunglasses, he had a scar over the bridge of his nose. The other was wearing trousers and a tank top. He was smoking a cigarette. Iwao disliked the expressions on their faces. "They are Triads," she said. "Ruthless criminals."

"I won't let them harm you," Iwao promised her. "I don't care who they are."

"Don't say that!" she whispered, frantically. "If you stand against two of them you will find six of them waiting for you when you walk home tonight. They are without honor, but I don't think they will try anything with you here."

"They are walking this way," Iwao told her as he watched them weave their way through the tables, sometimes bumping or shoving to blaze their way.

"Oh no! We have to go, we have to run," she made to stand up. Iwao caught her hand and sat her down. She looked down at his big hand with a curious expression and a red blush worked its way across her face.

"Don't worry," he told her, suddenly abashed himself. They halted at the table. The one with the suit stood back a bit, his arms crossed. The one with the cigarette rested his hands on the table and leaned over to talk to the young woman.

"I thought you were gonna party with us. Who is this jerk?"

"My boyfriend!" the woman shouted. "Leave us alone!"

Now it was Iwao's turn to blush. He quickly stood, lest the woman see. She rose as well, standing behind him. His hand was on the hilt of the sword, and with a flick of his thumb the blade was freed an inch from the scabbard. This alone should have been warning enough for a intelligent man. The thug straightened up and puffed out his chest.

"I think you should leave right now," Iwao warned, sidestepping a few paces. The one in the suit reached into his pants and pulled out a switch blade. The other just laughed and puffed away on his cigarette.

"Which pawn shop did you find that in? Do you think I'm scared of some piece of scrap?"

Iwao exploded into motion. The sword leapt free of the scabbard and flashed in the sunlight. It twisted in his grip and then it was sliding softly into the scabbard again. There was a communal gasp that spread through the square and everything became as hushed as the dawn. The man looked white as milk. The little stub of cigarette that Iwao had left him hung from his lip, sliced as cleanly as a stalk of grass. "Next time it will be your neck," Iwao threatened. "Now walk away."

Every eye was watching the confrontation. No one so much as whispered. The man stepped back. His friend, the one with the sunglasses, looked ready to pounce. Iwao turned his cold eyes on him in deadly warning. The switchblade went back into the pocket.

"Lets go, Wong. We'll find him later," the man in the sunglasses said. Wong only nodded, unable to speak. He followed his friend out of the square, stooped with humiliation, disgraced in front of the people he swindled for a living.

Iwao looked back at the young woman. She was speechless with shock, at once frightened and flattered. "You must tread very carefully now," she told him. "Nevertheless, I am in your debt." With grace like a princess she bowed low before him.

"I did only what was right. Any man who causes others to live in fear has disgraced his ancestors and left himself in a place of dishonor," Iwao declared.

"Come with me, we should leave before they return," the woman said. She led him away from the square, out onto a cracked staircase that escaped the walls and descended into the sunlight. The land stretched out to the ocean before them, and for the first time since entering the city he felt the wind on his face. It carried a pleasing scent with it, salt brine and perhaps even a hint of lilies.

"We should wait here a while, until things cool down. I am aware of many hidden ways, places the Triads don't know about. This is one of them," she said. He could see her looking at him from the corner of his sight, searching him with those deep eyes. He turned away from the ocean and she quickly averted her gaze. "You're not Chinese, are you?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"I am from Japan. My name is Iwao Hazuki."

"Well met, Iwao Hazuki. My name is Xuan," she said, smiling at him. "Xuan Zhao"  



	2. Chapter 2

October 3, 1967

Kowloon

"This is where you live?" Iwao asked as they came to a vacant lot filled with derelict automobiles and glinting piles of scrap.

"This is where we were _forced_ to live, when the Triad land sharks drove us from our home," Xuan said. She sounded affronted and perhaps a little embarassed.

"I meant no offense," Iwao told her. "Please forgive me," he begged, crossing his abdomen with his arm and bowing as he had been taught.

"We are more fortunate than some. Poverty is rampant in the Walled City. The only people who are rich are the Triads, and that from extortion and crime," she lamented. "My brother and I are saving up money so that we can leave this place and return to where our parents were raised: Meng Cun."

"Your parents have passed?" Iwao asked.

"Many years ago. I remember very little of them. My brother raised me."

He followed her through the maze of the scrap yard until they came to a silver trailer in an open area. There was a ring of stones near the trailer within which were two men locked in martial arts practice. A boy watched them from beside the ring, completely riveted with every motion. One of them, Iwao could see, had a definite advantage over the other. He weaved and dodged the other's attacks effortlessly, as quick and strong as a tiger. He had long black hair tied in a braid behind his head and sharp eyebrows. His dark eyes were full of mirth. _This must be Xuan's brother,_ Iwao thought, as he noticed the similarities in their features. His opponent was smaller and less broad, but despite this he had a grace and skill in his movement that Iwao recognized immediately. _A swordsman, _Iwao knewHis hair was short and dark and he wore wire rim glasses.

"Come now, Zhu!" Xuan's brother shouted, weaving. "I know you can do better than that!" Zhu responded with a viscious flurry of fist strikes aimed at the head and torso. Xuan's brother--his hands clasped behind his back--weaved through them like a serpent in the grass. Zhu swiveled, changed direction, and delivered a devastating roundhouse kick. Xuan's brother quickly ducked under it and rising up clutched Zhu's ankle as it passed over. He sprung up and sent Zhu sprawling in midair. The dust shout up in spumes and the glasses landed at Iwao's feet.

"Better!" Xuan's brother shouted, lending Zhu a hand. Zhu grasped it and dusted himself off.

"But not good enough," Zhu said. "Your speed and agility are incredible, my friend. You must tell me who this mysterious teacher is."

Xuan's brother shook his head. "That famous curiousity won't be fed this time. But perhaps you would turn your curiousity here," Xuan's brother said, pointing to Iwao. Iwao handed the glasses to Zhu, who dusted them off and wound them once more around his ears.

"Who do you have here, Xuan?" her brother asked.

"This is Iwao Hazuki from Japan," Xuan responded, motioning to him. "Iwao, meet my brother Sunming." Iwao bowed and it was returned in kind.

Sunming motioned to Zhu. "My friend and colleague: Yuanda Zhu." Zhu bowed and Iwao returned the gesture. "And my son, Longsun," Sunming said, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. He had a strong resemblance to his father, and seemed like a quiet boy. Bows were exchanged.

Zhu was looking directly at Iwao's sword, his eyes wide with an almost childlike wonder. "Not only Japanese, but a Samurai," Zhu remarked. "I am a swordsman myself--" Zhu began, but Sunming interrupted.

"Time enough for that later, Zhu. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, Iwao Hazuki?"

Xuan recounted the experience in the square. As the story unfolded, he saw the change come over the men's faces. Longsun, in the way of boys his age, seemed indifferent. Zhu looked concerned and Sunming looked enraged. Iwao could almost see the fire crackling in the man's eyes. "How dare they!" Sunming shouted as Xuan finished the tale. "They drive us from our home and then threaten my only sister, a child--"

"I'm not a child, Sunming!" Xuan exclaimed with defiance.

"You _are_ a child, Xuan. And I will have vengeance for this--"

"Don't talk like that," Xuan demanded. "You know as well as I that there can be no vengeance taken against the Triads! Would you leave Longsun and I alone, left to grieve over nothing but your memory?"

Longsun, drawn to attention by the mention of his name, looked at his father. The boy had a strange expression on his face, as if he could not comprehend losing his father. Sunming returned his son's glance and then sighed, his shoulders drooping. "I tremble to contemplate what might have happened if you were not there, my friend," he said, addressing Iwao. "I am in your debt," he said.

"I did only what was decent," Iwao responded. "You are not indebted to me. Farewell," he turned to leave but Xuan caught his arm.

"No, you can't leave!" she pleaded, her voice desperate. "They will be looking for you now."

"If they seek me out with violent intentions those intentions will be returned in kind," Iwao told her with no arrogance.

"Please, stay here with us. Even if it be for a short while," she said, looking into his eyes. Her gaze made him feel light. "We can find a place for him, can't we?" she asked her brother.

"She is right, Iwao," Sunming said. "I'm not sure what has brought you here, but I know that we can help. Beside that, Yuanda would never forgive me if I were to let you go before he had a chance to practice swordplay with you."

"I would not want to be an imposition..." Iwao said. He realized that he would not be able to fulfill his quest without _some_ friends to help. Kowloon was a big place, and China even bigger.

"It would be no imposition," Sunming said. "There is an old camper we can clean out for you. It won't be much, but it will be a clean bed. That is more than you would find at most hostels here."

"I thank you," Iwao said. "I promise that I won't wear out my welcome."

October 4, 1967

Kowloon

"May I?" Zhu ventured, unsure of the propriety of the request.

"Of course," Iwao responded, sliding the scabbard from his waistband and placing the sword in Zhu's waiting hands. The slight swordsman examined the rayskin on the hilt and drew the sword. The folded steel glinted brightly.

"A curious handguard. Is this some kind of symbol?" Zhu queried.

"My family crest," Iwao answered. "Snowflake, two stars, and the sword. I'm not sure what it means--perhaps nothing."

"Interesting...I wonder--"

"Zhu! Are you harrassing our guest?" Xuan suddenly appeared from the trailer door. She gifted Iwao a shy smile and returned her attention to Zhu. "Poor Iwao must feel like a test subject under your scrutinizing eyes."

"Ah, lovely Xuan. I see that nothing escapes those entrancing eyes of yours," Zhu responded. Iwao was ashamed to feel a slight twinge of jealousy. "My curiosity, insatiable as it is, does not scrutinize. It is founded only in respect," Zhu returned the sword. "I have seen your sword," he said. "Now, might I be so bold as to test your technique?" He reached into the burlap sack he had appeared with that morning and removed two bamboo staves, not unlike those that were used in the kendo schools.

"Certainly," Iwao responded, wondering if he only wanted an excuse to punish Zhu's honeyed remarks toward Xuan. "It will be fun."

Zhu looked absolutely ecstatic. He tossed one of the staves to Iwao and they walked to the stone circle. Xuan leaned on the wall of the trailer. She almost looked amused.

"Chest, arms, and legs?" Zhu asked. Iwao nodded and Zhu charged.

He was incredibly fast. The staves clacked hollowly as Iwao parried Zhu's arcing blow. He planted his feet and aimed a twisting thrust at Zhu's shoulder. Zhu knocked the strike aside with the flat of his stave and slid it forward along the surface of Iwao's own stave, aiming for Iwao's hands. Iwao turned out of the way. The legs of his hakama swished as Iwao altered his stance, lifted his stave to shoulder level, and thrust the pommel toward Zhu's sternum. Showing amazing agility, Zhu spun away from the thrusted pommel, crouched down, and leaped into the air. Iwao ducked under his descending slash, planted his foot forward, and struck Zhu squarely in the abdomen. Zhu lost his wind, doubling over. Iwao rose up to deliver the finishing blow to the back but suddenly Zhu recovered, caught Iwao's wrist with his left hand, and struck him in the forearm with the stave. Iwao's own stave escaped his grasp as the hard bamboo connected.

Zhu lowered his stave and stepped back, clutching his abdomen and breathing hard. Iwao clutched his own arm, attempting to rub away the pain. He would certainly have a bruise. "Fine swordwork," Iwao said, catching his breath.

"After I was disemboweled, unfortunately," Zhu said between breaths. "I think this contest is yours, friend. You have such focus and economy of action. A true warrior."

"Are you boys done with your play?" Xuan asked, approaching the ring.

"Yes--for now," Zhu replied. "I have to be back to Wan Chai or the medicine shop will remain unswept and cluttered with unloaded crates. Iwao, I thank you." He bid them farewell and left with his staves.

"Your arm?" Xuan asked, though there was no real worry in her voice. She was probably used to injuries and knew when they were serious and when they weren't.

"Fine, nothing serious."

"And how did you sleep?"

The camper that they had cleaned out for him was in the far corner of the scrap yard. It sat on piles of bricks and could have been there since Kowloon had become a city. It was clean however, and Iwao had slept comfortably. "Very well. Deep and dreamless."

"Good. There is breakfast if you are hungry."

"I couldn't possibly. Your family has done enough in providing me with a bed,"

"Enough, Iwao," she demanded. "We don't have much, but we have enough."

Iwao _could_ feel his stomach rumbling. "If you insist," he said, following her into the trailer. There was a small table inside, and an equally small kitchen. Xuan had prepared rice and a small portion of beef. There was also an assortment of vegetables and fruits.

Sunming and Longsun were nowhere to be seen. Xuan told him that they had breakfasted early and were off to the market. "You should have woken me," Iwao said. "I could have helped."

"You must not be seen in public, not until you are ready to move on. Or are you moving on?"

"I don't know," Iwao told her. She waited with an expression that asked for more information. Why he was here, what were his plans? Iwao changed the subject. "Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help? I would like to pull my own weight."

Xuan seemed genuinely dissapointed, obviously desiring to know more about him and his presence here. "There is one thing you can help with," she said finally.

"What is it?" Iwao ventured, curious.

"You will see."

She led him to the back of the scrapyard. There was an open space far in the southwest corner where someone had once kept a garden. It had gone long untended. The old cherry blossom trees had not been pruned in years, and long weeds grew where once there had been flowers. The stepping stones were cracked, and the whole place smelled wild with a natural decay.

"I can't imagine where this garden came from," Xuan said. "Perhaps this was once a park. In any case, it could use some work as you can see."

Iwao nodded. "Work, or a miracle?" he asked, smiling.

Xuan laughed. It was a light, melodious sound. A beautiful sound. "You can be that miracle, Iwao Hazuki. By the time this garden is restored to whatever beauty it once had, it should be safe for you to venture back onto the streets and seek whatever it is you need to seek."

_How can I refuse? _Iwao thought to himself.

"I will need some tools," he said.

"_We _will need some tools," Xuan corrected.

October 7, 1967

Kowloon

"Your brother is quite skillful. I have never seen a style like his," Iwao commented. They were working side by side in the garden. Their hands were dark with dirt, and though it was autumn the sun was warm on their backs. Three full days of work had done little to improve the pitiful little place, but it was slowly coming along. It was very satisfying work, Iwao decided. It felt refreshing to return to his roots, to feel the dirt on his hands and think no further than the goal at hand. And of course there was Xuan. He treasured the hours spent alone by her side.

"Yes," Xuan responded. She wiped her forehead with her wrist. "He rarely talks about it, or the Master from whom he is learning it. It is the only mystery between my brother and I, the only thing in all our lives that he hasn't shared with me. Sometimes I wonder--" she stopped herself, shaking her head. "Never mind, I'm sure it is of no consequence."

"You are very close with your brother, aren't you?"

Xuan smiled. "When our parents died, all we had was eachother. I was only four years old when it happened. Somehow he managed to take care of me, to carry on and overcome his grief."

"Your parents...how did they die?" Iwao asked, immediately wondering if it was an innapropriate question.

Her face became shadowed with grief, like a somber cloud hiding a golden dawn. "We're not sure. All we know is that it was 'political', whatever that means," she looked at him. "They were likely murdered."

"Terrible."

"Yes, but I pray to them every morning and know that they are watching over my brother, nephew, and I," she assured him.

"I lost my grandfather shortly before coming here," Iwao revealed, surprising even himself. "He passed the sword down to me, and somehow I feel that his spirit rests inside the steel. It is as if he is with me all the time, guiding me along, and continuing to teach me."

"He must have been a wise man. He sent you here, didn't he?"

Iwao started. How had she known? He looked at her. She smiled at him reassuringly, and he made a sudden decision. "He sent me here to find a someone, and left me only a name. That is why I am here. I seek Huangdi."

"Huangdi..." Xuan repeated. "Strangely enough, it does sound familiar. Do you know why your grandfather wanted you to find him?"

"No," Iwao said. "But find him I must."

"Perhaps my brother will know."

October 9, 1967

Kowloon

"Get up," the Master demanded.

Sunming was completely drained. It was all he could do to remain upright on his shaking knee. He struggled to rise but could not. The Master's palm impacted the back of his head. Sunming's face was driven into the worn wooden planking of the floor. The pain washed across his aching body. His muscles felt like jelly.

"You are weak," the Master hissed. "Tiger Swallow is not for the weak. Now get up!"

He stomped on the small of Sunming's back and drove out his wind. Sunming gasped for air, his eyes bulging. He had given everything he could, and now he was finished. Surely the Master could understand that. Couldn't he? Sunming could hear the Master bending down next to him, could feel his face next to his ear.

"I know who killed them..." the Master whispered. Sunming's heart stopped in his chest. "Get up, or you will never know." The Master grasped a handful of his hair, lifted his head, and pounded it once more into the floor. Sparks flashed in his eyes, but Sunming could not feel the pain. The heat awoke in his heart and raced through his veins. It spread like wildfire, filled him with a consuming flame. He imagined himself crushing the life out of the Master, forcing from his lips the name of the one who had murdered his parents. Somehow, he pushed himself up to his knee and at last to his feet. The pain crashed in waves, his muscles cried in protest, but Sunming didn't care.

The Master looked at him. "Yes..." The Master said, gleeful. "Attack!"

Sunming charged. A strength he had never known filled his limbs. He felt like a dark and baneful spirit, a viscious tiger on the hunt. Strike, counter, strike. The Master spun, weaved, struck. Sunming caught the striking fist with one hand, and with the other he clutched the Master by the throat. Sunming stepped forward, planted his foot behind the Master's back, and threw him to the floor. The Master was laughing. Sunming's hand was still clutching his throat. "Tell me," Sunming demanded. The Master looked at him, smiling. "THE NAME!" Sunming shouted.

"The name is Huangdi," the Master told him. "The time for your vengeance has come."


	3. Chapter 3

October 10, 1967

In his dream, the northern sky was on fire.

It glowed and danced and flickered, it was alive with shades of green and blue and red. It burned both cold and hot, casting both light and darkness upon the jagged mountains below. There was something important and ominous about those mountains.

Suddenly, a voice. _"They are the mountains of end and the mountains of beginning. They are the last place and the first." _

The voice was a man's, but more. There was authority and kindness in it, wisdom and age. He recognized it immediately.

"_Grandfather." _Iwao declared. He knew that he was dreaming, but still he could not wake.

"_Grandson…look to the North," _

Iwao looked. The fires had ceased, the sky was calm. The stars were shining in the dark, gold and red and blue. They seemed closer than usual, and had voices of their own.

"_Find the key…" _one said.

"_Seek the compass," _said another.

"_Prepare the guardians," _

"_Join with the princess,"_

"_North."_

"_North."_

"_North!" _

Awake. The birds outside were singing their morning song, and the sunlight fell dimly through his window. Iwao sat up, swinging his legs over his bed and holding his head in his hands. The dream was like a brand upon his soul.

He reached for his leather travel bag and removed a marble-patterned notebook. Using the pencil that was sandwiched in the pages, Iwao wrote his dream. He wasn't sure why he was compelled to record the dream, but he knew it was the right thing to do. By the time he had finished, he had had plenty of time to consider its meaning.

North was China. North was Huangdi. North was where his fate was laid, that same fate that called to him in his dream.

A knock on the door. He knew right away that something was wrong. The knock was too urgent, the morning too young. The weight of the camper shifted as Iwao stood and dressed himself. He opened the door to find a distressed Xuan. She had obviously been crying.

"What's wrong?" Iwao asked, fearing the worst.

"My brother," Xuan said. "He is hurt."

------

Sunming's face was so puffed and swollen that Iwao could scarcely recognize him. It was crisscrossed with bloody cuts, and bruised a deep and angry purple.

"He returned late last night, after I had gone to sleep," Xuan said. She was kneeling beside her brother's bed, holding his motionless hand. Longsun stood in the corner of the room, looking very worried. "He always comes home late from training, so I didn't become worried until this morning when I went to wake him for work."

"Has he said anything?" Iwao asked.

"He muttered something about our parents. He has been asleep since then. I fear that he may have a brain injury."

"What can I do?" Iwao asked.

"He needs medicine, some disinfectant and something for the pain," Xuan stood. "Longsun is too young to wander the streets alone, and I must remain here should he wake," She said. She handed him a bag that jingled with coins. "Please…take this money. There is an apothecary in the Thousand White Building, which is the first building you see as you enter from Dragon Street. You can't miss it. I would not normally ask, but--"

"Please," Iwao said, pushing the coins back to her. He held her trembling hands longer than was necessary. She seemed to have no objection. "I will take care of it. I won't be long."

Xuan bowed. "Thank you so much."

Iwao stalled only long enough to retrieve his sword.

------

The streets were crowded with the milling multitudes of the destitute, each with downcast eyes, all unsmiling. Iwao decided that 'unsmiling' described Kowloon perfectly. He moved quickly through the crowd, jogging when the streets granted him space, making his way to the building that Xuan had described.

When he opened the door of the apothecary on the second floor of the Thousand White Building he was assaulted immediately by the pungent, varied scent of natural medicines. The words he exchanged with the shopkeep were pointedly short, and soon enough he was back on the streets with two small bags of medicine and a slightly lighter wallet. Money was one thing that he had no lack of; his Grandfather's inheritance had been generous.

As he emerged again into the dismal streets he had to pause for a moment to remember the way back. Turning around the corner of a building and making his way down a set of stairs, Iwao was amazed to see how quiet and empty the streets had become in this particular quarter. A quiet warning sounded in the back of his mind, but he continued along at a steady trot.

It was as he turned the corner of an empty alley between two decrepit buildings that he was confronted by them. They had obviously been waiting for him. Wong and Sunglasses were in front, Sunglasses with his switch blade and Wong with a bat that had been previously bloodied and never cleaned. Behind them were five other men with makeshift weapons of their own. There was a crowbar, chain, and more bats. Iwao backed a step, his hilt in hand. He heard footsteps falling wetly around the opposite corner, and three others appeared. His escape was cut off.

"Decided to pop your head out again, huh?" Wong said. "Last mistake you'll ever make."

Iwao was surprised to find that he felt no fear. _It is not my destiny to die here, _he thought. And suddenly, another thought, one that came unbidden. _I cannot die before Xuan knows that I love her._

"Nothing to say?" Wong taunted.

"I do not wish it, but unless you depart you will die this day," Iwao said, releasing his blade with a flick of his thumb.

Laughter. It echoed from the walls of the buildings, finding no escape from the city's heavy shadow. A single pillar of sunshine fell from the narrow crack high above, causing the watery alley to glisten with a high sheen. Up there, the wind blew clean and free. Perhaps it still smelled of lilies.

The men advanced from both sides, but Iwao's gaze never left Wong. He was the author of this, and he would be the first to fall. There was an abrupt bang to Iwao's left. His sword flashed out and he shifted to the side to face the new threat. A man had appeared from one of the alley's doorways. He was a slight man with long hair who was carrying a bow staff. He did not have the look of a Triad.

"I am with you," he said, facing the men that had appeared from behind.

Iwao smiled. He burst forward with the swiftness of a diving hawk. Wong did not even have time to lift his bat. His throat opened clean and wide. The blood was like a crimson fountain. Sunglasses was next. Iwao aimed the sword thrust directly at his heart. His enemy fell backwards just in time and the point pierced his shoulder instead. One man lost an arm as he lifted his chain, another looked down to find Iwao's blade in his bowels. The others ran, their weapons left behind. Sunglasses pulled himself up and joined them in their flight.

Iwao swiveled to see how the man with the bow staff was doing. One of the Triads was lying unconscious in the middle of the alley, another was clutching an obviously broken hand. His new friend was poised above him, the point of the bow staff resting on the thug's throat. "If you move I will crush your windpipe!" he promised.

The man who had lost his arm was still writhing on the ground and crying with pain. Iwao finished him with a merciful thrust to the heart. There would be no doctors here able to mend him, no sterile room in which to operate. A clean death was all that Iwao could offer.

He sheathed his sword--he would need to clean it later.

"Let him go," Iwao said, turning.

"Don't you want some answers from him?" the stranger asked.

"Now that I think of it, just one." Iwao knelt beside the man. "Do they know where I am hiding?"

The Triad was well fed, healthy looking. Although he did not share the shrunken bodies of the rest of Kowloon's inhabitants, he seemed to carry the same burden of hopelessness, even if he was in the best position anyone in Kowloon could be. He had fear in his eyes, and calculation also. Iwao could almost hear the scales clicking and balancing in the man's brain.

"I'll tell you if you let me go," the man said, reaching a response that satisfied him.

"Look into my eyes," Iwao said, fixing his gaze. "I swear to you, tell me the truth and you will live this day. Confront me again, and you will die."

The Triad paused to think for a moment. "They don't know where you are hiding, but it won't be long. This is _our _city. Don't underestimate us, foreigner. Especially now that Eng has felt your blade. He is more important than the rest of us."

Iwao assumed that the man he knew as Sunglasses must be this Eng. "Tell your bosses that if they come after me again more bodies will be piled in the streets. Nothing will stop me."

The Triad smiled. "Do you think that losing soldiers like me concerns them? As long as the people are hungry, the Triads will have no lack of help. If you want to live, leave the Walled City," he cautioned. "Now, keep your end of the bargain."

Iwao looked up at his friend with the bow staff, nodding. The stranger stepped away and allowed the Triad to rise. He quickly evacuated the alley, still clutching his broken hand.

"I must know the name of the man who saved my life this day," Iwao stated, bowing.

The man bowed in turn. "My name is Kai."

"I am Iwao Hazuki," Iwao said. "I apologize, Kai. It seems that I have involved you in a war that is not yours."

"You are wrong," Kai said, turning toward the door from which he had appeared. "This war is the war of every person in Kowloon. The Triads have persecuted us too long." Kai turned back to Iwao. "I am a member of a group who stands against the Triads, and will be well protected for my involvement here today. I fear the same may not be true for you, Iwao. We can see you safely away from Kowloon, though that is a decision you must make yourself."

Kai reached into one of his pockets and removed a slip of paper. Iwao accepted the paper and saw that it was a drawing with four circles in an indecipherable pattern. "If you wish to accept this favor, find the Northstar Teahouse in the Dimsum Quarter. Find a table with four cups and arrange them in this pattern. One of us will contact you."

Iwao hid the paper away and bowed once more to Kai. "Thank you, friend."

"Decide quickly, Iwao," Kai returned. "The wheels are turning."

With that, Kai was gone.

------

Nothing had changed by the time Iwao returned to the scrap yard. He was extra careful as he traveled the streets, wary of being followed or watched.

As Iwao appeared in the trailer with medicines in hand, Xuan's eyes met his. It was a look of complete devotion, of absolute appreciation. And then, as she saw the blood drops splattered across his gi, a look of concern and fear.

"What happened?" she asked, obviously dreading his response.

"The Triads," Iwao responded. "I think I have brought danger to your family, Xuan."

"We will discuss it later." She took the offered medicines and bent down to care for the unconscious Sunming. The first of the medicines was a herb-scented balm that Xuan spread on her brother's chest. It filled the room with a strong, almost suffocating aroma. The last of the medicine was a liquid that Xuan dabbed with a soft cloth and worked into the cuts on Sunming's face.

"It is a blessing that he is not awake," Xuan observed. "Or he would be very pained by the sting."

Longsun approached from his corner and looked in his father's face. "Will he recover, Aunt?" the boy asked.

They were the first words that Iwao had ever heard the quiet boy speak.

Xuan touched Longsun's head and smoothed back his dark hair. "If Iwao hadn't helped us, I fear we would have lost him."

The boy looked up at Iwao, tears filling his eyes. He bowed. "Thank you, Iwao," Longsun said.

---------

"Come with me to China," Iwao pleaded, holding Xuan's hands in his own. The moon shone bright and cold upon what Iwao had come to think of as their garden

"That is not within our means," Xuan said, casting her eyes downward.

"Do not allow that to concern you," Iwao said, lifting her chin. "The man I told you about--Kai--said that his group would provide a way out of this awful place. I am sure that I can convince them to provide an escape for your family as well."

"Our life is here, Iwao," Xuan replied, her eyes gleaming. "Sunming will never leave his training. He is too dedicated to his Master."

"The Master who placed him on the brink of death?" Iwao asked.

Xuan looked away. "He insists that his Master is wise and powerful, that the training must be strict so that he may also become wise and powerful."

"Wisdom is born of peace and tranquility, not violence and hate," Iwao said. "Talk to him Xuan, tell him of my quest. That is all I ask."

Xuan pressed herself against him, resting her head on his chest. "I am so scared, Iwao."

Iwao held her head against him, felt her warm breath against his chest. This was the closest they had ever been, and any other distance was too far away. "Will you speak to him?"

He felt her nod. "I will talk to him in the morning," she promised.

"I will join you," Iwao replied.

-----

October 11, 1967

His Master's expression was unreadable.

"What do you know about this Iwao from Japan?" the Master finally asked. He sat cross legged on a raised platform above planked floor of the dojo, his face concealed in darkness. Behind him the Four Heavenly Beasts hung upon the wall. The eyes of the Beasts seemed to be watching the exchange, eyes that glistened with jewel encrusted extravagance

"He was sent here by his Grandfather, who told him that it was his destiny to find Huangdi of China," Sunming responded. He sat upon the floor below his Master, still quite sore from his recent beating. "That is all he claims to know."

When Iwao had told Sunming his story he had not known how to react. Could they be seeking the same Huangdi? If so, did Iwao know that their parents had been killed by him? Had the swordsman sought them out deliberately? What were his intentions, really?

The Master paused for a moment, lost in thought. "Do you trust this man?"

"I don't know." Sunming said, simply. And he really didn't. Iwao had saved his sister's life, had perhaps saved his own by retrieving the medicines. The man seemed genuinely honest and good. Could it all be an act?

"Go with him," the Master commanded. "See how he reacts when you meet Huangdi, study his actions to determine his intent. You must tread carefully. You must school your feelings, bury them deep until the perfect moment. Prudence is paramount."

"Yes, Master," Sunming agreed.

"Huangdi is not a foolish man," the Master continued. "He will be able to read the intentions of a weak mind. He is cunning, but he has one weakness: He loves new pupils. That is how you must approach him: as a pupil who is hungry for knowledge. You must be modest, and under no circumstances can you use Tiger Swallow until the time comes to challenge him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Before you take you vengeance, you must do one thing for me."

"Anything."

"He has within his possession two objects that are my rightful property. You must retrieve them and return them to me in Meng Cun."

"What are they?" Sunming asked, curious.

"Stone mirrors of great antiquity. One has the design of a dragon. The other, a phoenix. They will be well hidden, but you must find them before you destroy Huangdi. Will you do this for me?"

"Of course," Sunming replied. If he must fulfill this one request to receive vengeance for the murder of his parents he would do so without hesitation.

"Good. Pack your things and leave as soon as possible. Reveal none of this to the foreigner. The only thing that he can know is your destination. "

"And what is my destination?" Sunming asked.

"Guilin."


	4. Chapter 4

AN: It took a few years, but here is the next chapter.

October 16, 1967

Xuan looked most beautiful in the light of sunset, Iwao decided.

For two days on the train, and two more on the ferry, he had seen her in many different lights. There was the first light of dawn, when her face was outlined in soft yellow. There was the light of the moonrise, when her face served as canvas to a mystery of shadows. There was the breaking light after a rainstorm, when her cheeks glistened with water drops and her raven hair was plastered in scallops across her forehead. It was during the sunset though, when her skin was alight under the wildfire sky, that he was most entranced. That is how she looked now, her crimson lips begging to be kissed, her russet eyes carrying a special spell.

As he watched her there on the deck of the ferry, arms resting on the railing as she watched the emerald hills of Guilin pass by, Iwao knew that he must have her for his wife. As if sensing his thoughts, she looked up at him and smiled.

"How does it feel to be coming to your journey's end, Iwao?" she asked.

Iwao sighed, leaning his back against the railing beside her. "I am conflicted. I know my Grandfather wanted me to find Huangdi, but I don't know why. The only thing I am sure of is that it is extremely important. I only wish I had more answers. Was he a friend of my Grandfather's? Am I simply meant to bring news to him of my Grandfather's death?"

Xuan looked down into the brown current of the river. "Well, let's examine what we know. The fact that both your Grandfather and my brother's Master knew of Huangdi would seem to indicate that he has some connection with the martial arts."

Iwao thought about it a moment. "That would seem likely. Masters of the Chinese martial arts are usually aware of one another, especially the ones that have had a history of rivalry."

"Did your Grandfather ever spend any time in China?" Xuan asked.

"I don't think so, at least he never told me as much. He felt too close to the spirits that inhabit the islands of Japan, I can't imagine that he would have ever left."

"Hmm, definitely a mystery," Xuan said. "A pity that Zhu is not with us, he knows just about everything about the history of Kung Fu. He has read thousands of books and scrolls on the subject."

"A pity," Iwao confirmed, swallowing his jealousy. Every time that Xuan mentioned the spectacled swordsman Iwao could not help but feel envious of how much longer Xuan and Zhu had known one another. He tried to forget about it, and instead examined the landscape around him.

This land was filled with a multitude of energies, Iwao knew. The mountains were tall and imposing, tangled with greenery. The river coursed with a mighty power that Iwao could feel surging beneath his feet. He imagined the river as having a dangerous duality; he knew that as the seasons turned it could either serve as a Creator or a Destroyer. It was filled with silver darting fish, and many varieties of birds circled it overhead. _The lifeblood of the land, _Iwao thought.

He awakened from his reverie to the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Sunming and his son. "I have talked to the captain of the boat and he has given me a little bit of information about this 'Huangdi' fellow," Sunming said. Iwao could not put his finger on it, but Sunming's cheerful countenance had changed a great deal ever since his injury at the brutal hands of his Master. He seemed less trusting than he had been, and was clearly not fond of the closeness that had grown up between Iwao and Xuan. Maybe he was simply being protective of his younger sister, or perhaps the way in which his trust in his Master had been betrayed had made him more suspicious. Whatever the case, Iwao hoped that he could show Sunming that he deserved to court Xuan.

"What did you find out?" Iwao queried.

"Apparently Huangdi is in charge of some community deep in the mountains, near a stone quarry. They like their privacy, but do conduct trade with the village of Langhuishan, where we will be landing. We will have to go on foot from there."

"Did the captain mention how much longer it will be?" Xuan asked.

"We should be there by moonrise," Sunming turned to leave but Longsun stayed behind. "Come, Longsun!"

"But I wanted to talk to Iwao some more about Japan!" Longsun protested.

Iwao smiled. Whereas Sunming had cooled somewhat toward Iwao, Longsun had become Iwao's fast friend. The boy had been tailing him ever since they left Hong Kong, always wanting to know more about his homeland or asking about the bushido code. Iwao had been more than happy to indulge the boy's curiosity.

"There's no time for that. Come on."

"Alright…" Longsun mourned, downtrodden. He followed his father and once again Iwao was alone with Xuan.

"I think you have an admirer," Xuan proclaimed, grinning.

"He is a very special boy," Iwao said. "I have never meant such an inquisitive child."

"He gets that from his mother," Xuan said, her smile vanishing. "I have tried to be as good a mother as she would have been had she not died in childbirth."

"You would have been a child yourself, at the time his mother died. You should not have put so much pressure on yourself."

"Perhaps not. I just wish that Longsun had been able to meet her. She was so graceful and proper. I always felt like a backwards bumpkin around her, but she was always very kind to me."

"I think she must have rubbed off on you, Xuan. You have enough grace to make me seem a bumpkin," Iwao said.

Xuan blushed a little. "Nonsense. No bumpkin could ever be so honorable as you, Iwao." She touched his hand. "Had you not been so honorable who knows what would have become of my little family? Without you, we would still be wilting under the shadow of that horrible city. You helped us get out, and now our dream of one day returning home to Meng Cun may become a reality."

"I hope so, Xuan," Iwao proclaimed. He kissed her hand, and together they watched the sky for the light of the first stars.

October 17, 1967

After a night spent sleeping on the boat of a fisherman they had paid, the four companions prepared for their trek into the wilderness. The market at Languishan was alive and pulsing with activity. They purchased foodstuffs, canteens, and old Red Army rucksacks to hold their supplies. By midmorning they were on their way.

In years to come, Iwao would look back upon that hike with fondness. Although the autumn was in full swing and the flowers out of bloom the landscape was still breathtaking. The air was cool but the sun was warm and shining, liberally stuffed with white fluffy clouds. Longsun was more childlike than Iwao had ever seen him. He darted to and fro, enjoying all of the new sights and smells and imagining himself on a great adventure.

Xuan seemed to become more beautiful and alive with each step she took. It was clear to Iwao that the city of Kowloon was too dark and cramped to hold such a precious flower. She could only truly shine under a vast, open sky. Sunming, on the other hand, seemed impervious to the beauty around him. He was determined to reach their destination as quickly as possible.

They saw the first people about a mile out from the village. There were farmers harvesting rice on a terraced hillside, and one man fishing out of a stream. Their clothing seemed old fashioned, though Iwao did not know much about Chinese fashion. Some of them stopped and appraised the traveling party with curious expressions.

As they passed by another group of farmers Iwao thought he heard one of them say, "They've come!" Realizing that this could not be, Iwao assumed that he had simply misheard. Soon, the gates into the village appeared. There was a group of people waiting for them. In their midst was a figure of great authority, dressed in elaborate yellow robes. Iwao gripped the hilt of his sword, though he felt no real malice. He sensed that something of great significance was about to take place.

Sunming held out his arm to halt them. "We seek Huangdi!" Sunming shouted, tactlessly. It would have been polite to introduce themselves first.

Iwao stepped in front of Sunming. "I am Iwao Hazuki of Japan. My grandfather was a friend of a man named Huangdi, who we have learned lives in this village. My grandfather's dying wish was that I find this Huangdi, and so I have come. Can you help us?"

The man in yellow robes stepped forward. "You are known to me, Iwao Hazuki," the man said. His voice was held an undeniable gravity and power. This was a kingly man. "The stars have told me of your coming, and that you have come this day has confirmed to me a sorrowful fact. My brother, Aisin-Gioro Puyi, has died."

All at once everyone in the group knelt with their foreheads pressed to the soil. The man in yellow robes stood above them, glowing under the sunlight. Tears were in his eyes.

"What is going on?" Xuan whispered in Iwao's ear. He had no answer for her.

The group rose to their feet again, brushing dirt from their clothing. "Are you Huangdi?" Iwao asked.

"I am now, Iwao Hazuki. Today, the old dynasty has died. Today, the new dynasty has been born. I am the Yellow Emperor, you are my Protector, and you have brought my Grandchildren back to me. The battle for the soul of China has begun."


End file.
